


The beginning of The End

by fangirlcrazy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst, Apocalypse, Camp Chitaqua, Character Death, Croatoan, Croatoan Virus, Episode: s05e04 The End, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Hunters, Impala, Light drug use, M/M, Minor Character Death, Ruby's Knife, Samifer - Freeform, Some sort of sexual content, The End!Cas, back to the future - Freeform, stoner!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlcrazy/pseuds/fangirlcrazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Zachariah zaps Dean into the future, this isn't how he imagined it panning out. His future self dead, the world in apocalyptic state, Sam said yes and him and Cas are together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Editing text and straightening out errors will be ongoing. No beta so all mistakes are mine.

A lone preacher was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, handing leaflets to strangers, asking them if their souls were 'rapture ready'. He wore a plain black suit, probably the same suit he worse every Sunday to church, in an effort to make himself as presentable and approachable as possible.

“Hi, good evening brother, is your soul rapture ready?” he asked a passing man. Like every other person the preacher had come into contact with, the man kept walking. Not even a glance thrown his way, no sign of recognition that he was even standing there.

“Thank you, brother. God bless.” The preacher called after him. Yet another attempt at being as friendly as possible.

Another couple were passing, the preacher tried his luck again.

“Good evening folks, is your soul rapture ready?”, he asked, leaflet stretched out in an open invitation to take one. The man took the leaflet but made no eye contact what so ever. He seemed to just circle around the preacher, taking one as if that would make the preacher stop talking.

“What i'd like to do for you is show you what God's love is for you.” The man shook his head. More polite than most, the preacher thought.

“Okay. God bless.” he said as they walked away.

Dean stepped out of the Impala, duffle bag in hand, locking the door behind him.  
The preacher stopped him with a gentle hand up to his chest before Dean could get inside.

“Excuse me, friend?” the preacher asked. Dean glanced at him, slowing his walk to listen to what the preacher had to say. 

“Have you taken time out to think about God's plan for you?”, the preacher held up the stack of leaflets he had to his chest, so Dean could see what he was talking about.  
Dean stopped, turning around, eyebrows raised. He looked at the leaflets then up at the preacher.

“Too friggin' much, pal.” he replied, turning around so he could get to the door of the motel.  
He opened the door, stepping inside.  
The preacher looked the man up and down. Perhaps that's him, he thought.

-

“We're talking about the Cult, right?” Dean asked holding his phone up to his ear, using his free hand to peep out the window, making sure the net curtain was covering the window properly, shutting the curtain once he was done.

“As in the Cult?”

“We are.” Castiel confirmed over the phone.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Dean said walking over to the second window, doing the same with the net and the curtain as the previous. “Why would the demons keep a gun that kills demons?”

A large 12 by 4 passed the corner on which Castiel was standing. He held his free hand up to his ear to try and hear what Dean said but had no luck.

“What?” he shouted through the phone, testing to see if Dean could still hear him. “Wha- Dean, Dean!” he shouted again, proving his theory to be right. Castiel waited until the truck had completely passed before talking again. “I didn’t get that,”he said, a little frustrated. Castiel sighed. Dean chuckled, finding the situation rather amusing.

“You know its kind of funny, talking to a messenger of God on a cell phone.” Dean chuckled again, closing the door to the fridge he was just looking in. He propped his butt up against the counter, fiddling with the counter top that was peeling away. “It's, you know, like watching a Hells Angel ride on a moped.” he finished, smiling to himself.

“This isn’t funny, Dean,” Cas said feeling agitated, “The voice says I'm almost out of minutes.” 

“Okay. All right,” Dean said seriously. “I'm telling ya Cas, the mooks would have melted down the gun by now.”

Castiel looked up at a flickering street light across the road from him. “Well, I heard differently.”

Dean walked over to the motel bed, sitting on the edge while Cas spoke in his ear. “And, if its true, and you are still set on the insane task of killing the devil, this is how we do it.”

“Okay. Where do we start?” Dean asked, closing his eyes momentarily due to exhaustion. 

Cas perked up. “Where are you now?”

“Kansas City.” Dean answered, leaning over to the bedside table to get a look at the motel key chain. “Century Hotel, room 113.”

“I'll be there immediately.” Cas said, going to hang up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean interrupted. “No, come on man, I just drove like 16 hours straight. Okay? I''m human and there's stuff I gotta do.”

Cas scrunched up his eyebrows, confused. “What stuff?”

“Eat, for example, in this case sleep.” Cas nodded in understanding, then realised Dean was miles away and couldn’t actually see him. “I just need like four hours once in a while, okay?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. So you can 'pop' in tomorrow morning.”

“Yes. I'll just-”

Dean abruptly hung up.

Castiel looked at the phone, surprised Dean would hang up and not say goodbye. “Wait here then.” 

-

Buzz, Buzz, Buzz, Buzz.

Dean was pulled out of the, frankly nice dream he was having, reaching out to grab his phone and answering. “Damn it, Cas, I need to sleep.” he grumbled, voice laced with sleep.

“Dean, it's me.” Came Sam's voice through the phone. Dean's eyes shot open. “Sam?” he asked, as if not believing his brother was actually on the other end of the line. He glanced at the clock, realising the time, changing his mood from shock to annoyance. 

“It's quarter past 4.”

“This is important.” Dean rolled his eyes.

-

Dean opened the fridge to reveal the 6 pack of beer he put in there upon arriving, “So you're his vessel, huh?” he said, grabbing one of beer's and closing the fridge behind him. “Lucifer's wearing you to the prom.”

“That's what he said.”

“Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in, huh Sammy?” He said, peeking through the curtain onto the street below.

“So that's it? That's your response?” Sam asked, confused.

“What're you looking for?” Dean replied.

“I don’t know, a-a little panic, maybe?”

“Well I guess I'm a little numb to the earth-shattering revelations at this point.” Dean took a swig of   
the beer he was holding, still trying to wake up properly.

“What are we gunna do about it?” Sam asked.

“What do you wanna do about it?” 

“I want back in, for starters.”

“Sam-” Dean moved back over to the counters, leaning his arms and torso up against the fridge.

“I mean it.” Sam voiced, “I'm sick of being a puppet to these sons of bitches.” He took a deep   
breath. “I'm gunna hunt him down, Dean.”

“Oh, so we're back to revenge then, are we? Yeah, cos that worked out so well last time.” he said,   
rolling his eyes.

“Not revenge.” Sam stated calmly. “Redemption.”

“So what? You're just gunna walk back in and we're gunna be the dynamic duo again?” Dean asked, confused why Sam hadn’t thought this through.

“Look Dean, I can do this. I can.” Sam spoke stubbornly. “I'm gunna prove it to you.”  
Silence. Dean breathed through his nose, calming himself before he replied.

“Look, Sam.” His voice sounded tired as he spoke, not the kind of tired that can be cured with sleep. “It doesn't matter.” He said, walking over to the single sofa chair in the corner. “Whatever we do.” He sighed, closing his eyes, sitting down. 

“I mean, it turns out that you and me we're the-” he adjusted his position, leaning back, resting his arm on the chair rest. “The fire and the oil of the Armageddon.” He smiled to himself as he spoke, putting the beer bottle next to him on the counter. “Ya'know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere.” He paused, collecting himself. “Stay away from each other, for good.”

Sam cut Dean off before he said anything else. “Dean. It doesn’t have to be like this. We can fight it.”

“Yeah, you're right, we can.” Sam started to smile. “But not together.” That smile went as fast as it came. Dean's words hitting him as he understood just what his brother was saying.

Dean leaned forward in the chair, using his elbow to prop himself up. “We're not stronger when we're together, Sam. I think we're weaker... because whatever we have between us... love family, whatever it is, they are always, gunna use it against us, and you know that.”

Sam stayed silent.

Dean leaned back again, a lump forming in his chest, threatening to move into his throat.

“We're better off apart.” He continued, closing his eyes, keeping his breathing under control. Convincing himself just as much as Sam with the words that were coming from his mouth.

“We've got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing...” his lip quivered, the lump moving into his throat now wanting to escape his lips. “... if we just go our own ways.”

Sam's eyes became glossy, tears building up as he said “Dean, don't do this.” But in his heart, Sam knew Dean had already made up his mind. This was it. 

Dean stayed silent for a moment longer, wanting to just stay in this moment for as long as he could before he said goodbye, he knew it' be a long time before. He took a deep breath, swallowed back the lump, dreading saying the words before he even said them. But he knew this was the right thing to do. He knew this was the best way to save everyone.

“Goodbye, Sam.”

He hung up.

-

A horrible smell drifted through the air causing Dean to wake from his slumber. He was lying on the same bed, in the same room, but something was different. Dean's nostrils flared as his eyelids fluttered open. 

What the...? Dean thought to himself. His eyes open fully now, looking around the room in complete bewilderment. And then, he noticed.

He was lying on the same bed, yet there was no mattress. He was in the same room, but it had been ransacked and abandoned, a cold breeze coming in from the shattered window opposite him. Dean sat up, looking around the room confused. He took in the chipped off walls that were no longer covered in dingy wallpaper, there were stained, like the kind of stains you'd get in a building that hadn't been touched in years. Dean sits up, swivelled his body round, confused as to what could have happened in the short hours he had been asleep. How long have I been asleep? He thought. Dean's eyes darted all over the room, taking in the chaos. Each time, he was brought back to the window. Something isn't right. He stood up off the bed, walking slowly toward the other side of the room, worry and curiosity filled him as he approached the small window. He yanked back the curtains, peeked his head through the net, stuck his head fully out of the broken window.

He didn’t know where to look first. From as far as he could see, no matter which direction he looked. Chaos. Buildings had fallen down, the tops crumbled and burnt. Streets lamps pulled over and just left in the road. The roads were covered in some sort of slime, blood and mud, bits of furniture thrown out, cars turned over, some looked like they had been burt. Even the sky looked worn out, completely covered with a grey cloud. And silence. The only sound that could be heard was Dean's breathing.

Dean looked to where he parked Baby the previous night, but, as luck would have it, nada.

Great.

-

He walked out onto the streets, fear bubbled inside him. He wasn’t sure if he should run and hide or scope the place out, see what he could find. Dean chose to go with the latter, he slowed his pace, looked around to look at everything around him. He spun in his step, looked back at the motel, taking a few paces backward before turning back, completing a 360 turn.

Dean began to walk down the street, quickening his step a little, noticing the small things just left on the floor; stuff like small gas tanks, chairs, a bat, a desk, more turned over cars etc.

A sudden chill came over him. The feeling someone would get when they feel they're being watched. Dean started to walk faster, turning his head back every so often to check he wasn’t being followed. The more he walked, the more confused he became.

Smash

The sound of broken glass caused Dean to halt completely, his eyes widened as he scanned where the noise came from. He broke into a light jog in that same direction. He slipped down the side of two buildings, coming to a small opening when he stopped.

A small girl, around the age of 6, was knelt over the ground, looking into something on the floor. She was dressed in a mucky grey dress, her dark hair matted like it hadn't been brushed in weeks and her fair skin covered in markings and mud.

Dean looked behind him, back into the view of the main street, then back to the girl.

“Little girl?” He asked, keeping his voice calm so he didn’t scare her. The girl didn’t even look up, no acknowledgement that she even knew he was there. He slouched his body, trying to get a better look at her. “Little girl?” he repeated. 

Dean began walking toward her, slowly. “Are you hurt?”

Nothing. Yeah this isn’t creepy at all. He walked closer, and closer until he was next to her, his knees bent over so he didn’t seem intimidating. 

“You know the not-talking thing is kinda creepy, right?” He said, voice calm and almost happy sounding.

Then, he noticed the thing the girl had been looking into. Broken glass that had no doubt been a mirror. A droll of blood leaked it's way out of the girls mouth, spilling its way onto the glass.

Suddenly, the girl looked up, grabbing a sharp piece of broke glass, swinging her arm to get a hit at Dean. But Dean was quick, he dodged out of the way. The girl got up, making an human noise, and launch herself at Dean, trying to get a hit. But again, he jumped out the way, she screeched again but Dean cut it short by punching her in the face, sending her falling back ono the propped up mattress. 

A sharp pain made itself aware on Dean's side as he tried to turn his body to look behind him. He winced, but then, his attention was drawn to the wall opposite. The word he had heard before that sent a whole town mad with just one drop of blood, and there it was written in that same sticky red substance. Croatoan. 

“Oh crap.” Dean muttered.

Just then, a group of more than 10 people walked round the corner. If it wasn’t for the word behind their heads, Dean might've been glad to see them. The guy at the front stopped, turned his head, and looked directly at Dean. Naturally the rest of them followed this action. They all stood there for a moment just looking at him, Dean didn't want to take any chances and began running in the other direction. 

He took off, sprinted as fast as he could, rounding the corner onto the main street, knocking over a few trashcans as he did so, not looking back for so much as a second to check if they were following. He knew they were. He ran as fast as he could, dodging the littered objects on the floor to avoid crashing to the ground. Adrenaline started to kick in as Dean ran faster, he managed to create a distance between himself and the Croats, but he didn’t slow down , not for a single second. 

He took his chances as he came up to an opening of road with hardly any debris that would cause him to fall. He turned his head to see that the Croats had began to fan out, probably a hunting tack tick of theirs. He came up to a truck, taking a sharp turn behind it to try and lose at least a few of them. But, just his luck he rounded the corner to a dead end. A chain-link fence of all things.  
Dean slowed to a stop. He turned to face them, ready to fight, to the death he had too. 

The sound of gunshots broke out behind Dean, hitting the Croats in front of him. Dean ducked out of the way behind anything he could in order to not be mistaken for a Croat and therefore shot. He took a quick look behind him while he was out of sight. The army? 

Do you love me? Blasted out from some sort of over speakers whilst the guys gunned down the Croats. Dean scrambled further away, he noticed an alley way and toke his chances. Every once in a while he would stop, just for a moment, and look at the guys, more and more pouring out of the tanks from behind the fence.

Dean managed to stumble away without getting shot or jumped on by a Croat. He hid away in an alley until it was safe to emerge.

Dean didn't want to make the same mistake as last time, so he waited until nightfall before making a break for it.

It was just light enough for Dean to be able to see where he was going. He used a metal piece of scrap from the floor and began digging under the fence. Once there was enough of a hole to mpve the fence, he pulled, creating a gap that he could crawl through.

He came to a stumbled stop when he noticed the sign. It read:

CROATOAN  
VIRUS  
HOT ZONE  
\---------------------------  
NO ENTRY

BY ORDER OF ACTING REGIONAL COMMAND  
AUGUST 1ST 2014  
KANSAS CITY  
Ord. 848243/43QE

 

“August 1st, 2014?” Dean muttered allowed. How in the hell is that possible? Not knowing what else to do, he continued walking forward. Car. Dean thought. I need a car.

Hot-wiring a car was easy for Dean. He'd been doing it for years, finding one with gas was going to be difficult though. As he walked through a crappy yard, he realized he wouldn't have to look very far. Half a tank would have to do.

-

In the car Dean tried his luck with signal, he held up his cell to the roof of the car he'd high-jacked. Nothing. He switched on the radio, but instead of the soft sound of music, he found static. 

“That's never a good sign.” He grunted.

Not knowing what else to do, he just drove. The sun had now completely set which meant that Dean had to drive in the darkness. Not that he minded, it was just a pain in the ass when you were in an apocalyptic time-frame, 5 years into your own future. 

A soft sound of feathers fluttering came from beside him. Dean looked to his right in panic, swerving the car slightly. Freakin' Angels. “Croatoan pandemic reaches Australia.”

Dean hit the palm of his hand against the steering wheel, his 'bitch face' made itself known, as he continued to look ahead, eyes on the road. Zachariah. 

“I thought I smelled your stink on this 'back to the future' crap.” 

Zachariah ignored his snarky resort, continuing to read from the newspaper he had in his hand.

“President Palin defends bombing of Houston.” Zachariah said as he turned the page, scanning for more articles. “Certainly a buyer's market in real-estate. Let's see what's happening in sports.” He glanced at Dean and smirked.

“Oh, that's right, no more sports. Congress revoked the right to group assembly.” He flicked through the pages again. “What's left of Congress, that is. Hardly a quorum if you ask me.”

Dean rolled his eyes, not wanting to hear any of his B.S.

“How did you find me?

“Afraid we had to tap some unorthodox resources of late. Human informants. We've been making inspirational visits to the fringier Christian groups.” Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. “They've been given your image, told to keep an eye out.” Then it clicked.

“The Bible freak outside the motel. He, what, dropped a dime on me?”

“Onward, Christian soldiers.”

“Okay, well, good, great.” Dean snarked, “You've had your jollies. Now send me back, you son   
of a bitch.”

Zachariah smirked, “Oh, you'll get back. All in good time. We want you to marinate a bit.”

Dean looked at him, confused. “Marinate?” 

“Three days, Dean. Three days to see where this course of action takes you.”

Dean shook his head, still not understanding what this was all for. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that your choices have consequences.” He said, unimpressed. Zachariah shook the paper he was reading to flatten out the pages, turning it so Dean could see what he had been reading. 

“This is what happens to the world if you continue to say no to Michael.”

Dean looked at the paper, now understood a little more but was still baffled.

Zachariah sighed once more. “Have a little look-see.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He glanced out of the side window for just a second then turned back to see that the passenger seat was empty. Dean huffed in anger. Great.

He carried on driving, he noticed fires in the fields beside him. Bobby will know what to do.

-

Dean entered Bobby's house, the door was unlocked which could mean the old Croat was inside. But Dean saw the state of the yard outside, he knew Bobby wouldn’t leave it in that mess.

“Bobby?” he called, just in case the older man was home. The last thing he wanted to do was startle him. He toke a step inside but couldn’t see anything that was out of the ordinary. He checked the door to see if there was any forced entry, nada. “Bobby, I'm comin' in.” Nothing seemed to be out of place. Until he entered the living room.

The same amount of clutter littered the room, but there were cobwebs and dust everywhere. Bobby's placed had have to have been untouched for years. 

 

Then Dean noticed the last ting he wanted to see.  
Directly in the middle of the room was Bobby's wheelchair, turned on it's side.

“Oh, no.” Dean hushed under his breath. He walked over to it, checking the side door before picking it up. The chair was covered in cobwebs, it was rusty and had a sticky substance on the seat. Blood.

Two bullet holes were struck in the back, dry blood coming from the entrance holes.

No, no, no, no, please no

Dean looked around the room again, eyes wide in confusion and fear. Doubt and dread began to fill his gut.“Where is everybody, Bobby?”

 

The only place Dean could think of to look for any leads on where the hell everybody was he searched through all the hidden stashes Bobby has scattered around his place. He checked under the fridge, the slat in the stairs under the stairs, hidden spaces behind light switches and hanging lights, floorboards, cabinets, until finally, he looked in the fire place. Jackpot.

A small journal was tucked away inside, articles, research, notes, drawings and photos. One photo caught his eye, it was a group shot that included 3 hunters he had worked a small amount of case on with his Dad, Bobby and Cas. Cas looked different. Human different. They were holding guns, laughing at something someone behind the camera said, They were standing behind a sign that read:

WELCOME TO CAMP CHITAQUA

“Camp Chitaqua.” Dean repeated to himself. That's where he needed to go. 

 

Dean parking the stolen car down the road and walked the last mile, arriving at the camp at late hours. Guards were on patrol, three groups of two covering the outer perimeter, Dean just had to be careful when to sneak in. Walking up to a side gate, hiding in the shadow briefly until the guards passed, peeking through the chain-linked fence taking in the patrollers and a cabin.

“Oh, Baby, no.” he muttered, noticing his beloved car. She had been left and abandoned, over grown weeds around her tires, she was rusty and looked like she had been driven in years. Just left, unloved. 

He managed to break through without causing any attention, creeping over to get a closer look.

Her front doors had been ripped off, the windows mucky, stained, the interior peeling away, a musty smell filled her presence. 

“Oh, no, Baby. What did they do to you?” he said, hurt lingering his voice as he spoke.

A blunt punch to the head sent him to the ground.

 

Dean came to with a ringing in his head and a cramp in his wrist. His arm was held up and as he tried to move, he got pulled back. Looking up to see he was handcuffed to a ladder. Looking over to the other side of a room to see a woman reassembling a gun. She was sitting backward on the chair so she was straddling it. Black army boots, baggy denim jeans followed by a grey worn out top, it actually looked really familiar Dean. A brown leather jacket to complete her get-up. Her dark, curly hair tied up in a messy bun. Her skin tanned, scratches visible on her neck and jaw.

“What the hell?” he yelled.

“I should be asking that question don't cha think?” she snarked, voice low, threatening. “In fact,” she said, cocking the gun, pointing it straight at Dean. “Why don’t you give me one good reason why I shouldn't shot you right here and now?”

Dean have the women a quick look up and down. “This how you greet all your guests?” he remarked.

She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head like he'd said something amusing. “Only the ones I catch breaking and entering.”

He gave her a look, taking a deep breath. “Would you please just-”, he pleaded, gesturing with his free hand at her to lower the gun.

“I know you're not a Croat.” she barked, not shouting exactly but loud enough to make Dean jump. He raised his free arm in surrender. She held the gun in place. “So tell me...”

“Dean. I-I'm Dean.”

“Dean. Why'd you break through the side entrance when you coulda' just walked through the front?” she raised her eyebrows, smirk playing on her lips.

Dean kept his arm raised, jabbing his head to the door, “just, admiring your scraps.” 

A look of recognition fell across the woman’s face. Her eyes widened as she slowly lowered the gun, not completely but enough for it to go slack in her hold. Her eyes began darting all over the place, as if she was figuring something out, connecting the dots in her mind.

“Oh crap.” she muttered, “Dean?”

Dean lowered his arm, trying to get a read on who this woman was. Do I know her? He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?” he asked, confused for not the first time today.

“The Dean?” she repeated.

“Do I know you?” he asked her.

She pointed her gun more determined than before, not taking her eyes off of him for a second. Hardly even doing so much as blinking. “No, no,” she hushed, “We've never met.”

“Whoa, whoa, ay, what did I do?” Dean yelled, he yelled dammit he did not whine.

Ok, this is getting weird.

“I've heard stories about you.” She was looking at him as if he was some sort of celebrity. A celebrity she wanted to kill but a celebrity nether the less. “You're Dean Winchester. Cas' Dean, right?”

Dean widened his eyes at that. “Cas?” he asked, a flicker of hope filling him. “Cas is alive?”

Finally, the woman blinked. She stood up placing the gun on the table behind her, turning her chair around only to resume her butt, resting her elbows on her knees. “Just about.” she muttered, loud enough she meant for Dean to hear. Clamping her hands together, resting her fists on her chin.

“I've done all the checks, not a Croat, not a demon or shapeshifter, or even a damn ghost.” She turned and picked up a shotgun, pointing it at him violently. Dean's hands flew up.

“What are you?” she yelled, louder than before.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, okay, okay, listen.” Dean took a deep breath. “This is gunna sound crazy but-”

“What are you?” she boomed again, standing up and walking over to him until the barrel of the gun was digging into Dean's scalp. “You even think about swiping this from me and i'll blow you fricken brains out.”

“I'm from the year 2009.” he gasped out quickly. He honestly believed this woman would kill him.

“You're from the- get outa here. You can't come up with a better lie than that?” she chuckled, but her face hardened the second she let out the slight laughter.

“Dean?” came a voice from behind him. Dean knew that voice. Sensing he was going to turn his head, the woman dug the barrel further. “Don't even think about it,” she flat-panned. 

“What're you doin' in here Chuck?” she asked looking at the direction he was stood in. “I'm in the middle of an interrogation.”

“Yeah, I can see that, how about you put the gun down and listen to what he has to say.”

Chuck must've hypnotised her or something because she was removing the gun and taking a few steps back. “The cuffs stay on,” she said, walking further back, putting the gun down then sitting back on the chair.

Chuck walked in front of Dean, looking at him with wide eyes, almost sad-like.

“You did all the checks, right?” he muttered in the direction behind him, moving his head slightly but not taking his eyes off of him.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “All clear.”

Chuck breathed out a sigh of relief, running a hand down his face, his eyes turning glossy. He shook his head like he couldn't believe Dean was sat right in front of him.

Dean looked at him, confused as to why Chuck was acting this way. “What's goin' on Chuck?” he asked, trying not to worry.

Chuck's eyes widened, he turned around, “Cas doesn’t know yet, does he?”, his eyes pleading to the other woman.

“No, I only just found out myself.”

“Can someone please, tell me what the hell is going on!” This time, it was Dean who was doing the yelling.

Chuck turned around in surprise, his eyes blood-shoot.

“Oh god,” he breathed, “Okay.” he muttered to himself, “just gunna come out with it bluntly.” He shuffled on his feet, “you died, Dean.”

Dean was taken back. There was no way. That had to be some mistake. “Where's Sam?” he asked, Sam would understand, he would clear this whole thing up “I wanna talk to Sam.”

Chuck sighed again. “Crap.” he muttered under his breath.

“Sam should know I'm here.” Dean demanded. 

“He's not here.” The other woman answered for Chuck.

Chuck began pacing, running his fingers through his hair as he walked. He seemed agitated, the man really didn't handle stress well.

Dean's eyes darted back and forth between them, waiting for an explanation. 

Dean hung his head, his arm tugging on the cuffs making them rattle. “Where is he?” he whispered.

Chuck stopped to look at him. Pity filling his voice.

“He uh- he said yes, Dean.”

Dean snapped his head up. “No,” he grumbled. “No, no, no, no, no.”

“We should tell Cas.” the woman stated, absolute no expression on her face. “He deserves to know.”

Dean just hung his head, he slumped completely over. He just stared at the floor.

He said yes? “Cas is only just getting better.” How could he do that? He promised. He promised to say no, to not let any of this happen. “He deserves to know, I've heard what they went through, what Cas went through, he should know.” Does that mean I said yes too? Is that how I died? How did the woman not know me straight away if I had been here. “You didn't see them together, Cas was there when it happened, he held him until he died.” How long have I been dead? Why did it effect Cas so much? What the hell has Zachariah gotten me into? What was the damn point of this? “They were practically married, he deserves to know Chuck.” Three days, Just survive three days and I'll be fine, I'll be with Cas and it'll be fine. “Dean was different back then, he doesn’t remember a thing. I think it might have been the angels.” Maybe I could call Sam? Tell him I was sorry? No, no that'll just make things worse. “Would you want to know if you were in Cas' position?” Why are they talking like it's their decision. Why are they talking like I'm not here. 

“Maybe you should let Cas decide.” Dean mumbled. 

Chuck sighed, untying the cuffs as he said, “A lot has changed since your time.”

Dean let his hand drop into his lap. 

“Take me to him.” Dean muttered. 

“Dean, he's fragile.” Chuck answered. “He took your death hard okay? He won't be what you remember, everything is different.”

“Nothing you're saying is making any sense.” Dean breathed, Maybe this is a dream?Maybe I'm just sleep deprived.

“I won't listen or do anything you tell me until I speak to him.” He voiced stubbornly. Collecting himself he stood up. He breathed and swallowed back a strange feeling in his chest. Dean looked Chuck straight in the eye, “Take me to him,” he pleaded. “Please.”

 

The walk to Cas' cabin was long. Like Dean had been walking all day just get himself to somewhere he felt safe. Chuck knocked on the door, nudging Dean to the side a little. “Let me talk to him for a second first?”

“Yeah?” Cas' voice came from the other side of the door. Dean scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion. That does not sound like Cas. “Cas?” Dean mouthed to Chuck. Chuck nodded, “You decent buddy, I need to talk to you. It's important.” 

“Yeah, come in.” 

Chuck pushed open the wooden door. Screw it, Chuck thought.

“There's someone here to see you.” Chuck glanced at Dean, a silent motion for him to step inside for Cas to see him. He did. Cas was sat with his feet up on a coach, smoking some sort of pipe. He was in baggy well worn clothes, his hair ruffled and longer than Dean remembered, Dean scrunched up his nose, sniffing slightly, a strong smell of Marijuana hitting Dean's nose.

Cas sat up in a flash, his eyes wide. Like he was seeing ghost. Shit, maybe this was a-

“Dean?”


	2. One Door Closes, Another Opens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is stuck in 2014 for no more than three days. Three days. 72 hours. How long could it be? What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at summaries please forgive me, this chapter has been a long time coming and yet I am still not happy with it, so the ending is likely to change. No Beta, all mistakes are mine.

Cas sat up in a flash, his eyes wide. Like he was seeing ghost. Shit, maybe this was a-  
“Dean?” 

Dean wasn't sure how to react when he saw Cas, he looked far too, human. 

Castiel stood up, slowly making his way towards Dean, as if he was some wounded animal and might run off at a sudden sound.

Cas kept his eyes locked on Dean.

“Chuck?” Cas asked, his eyes bloodshot, but Dean couldn’t tell if it was from the pot future Cas apparently now smoked, or tears welling up in his eyes.

“I can't-” Cas stopped walking, he clutched his hands into fists and pressed them against his eyes.

“No, no, no-” he whispered, “this isn't- I'm dreaming. This isn't-”

Cas fell to his knees, his fists still pressed against his eyes, muttering under his breath “this isn't real.”

Dean's confusion was now through the roof, “Cas?” he asked, walking a little toward him, reaching his hand out to place on his shoulder. But Cas flinched away. 

“No.” he stated. Chuck grabbed Dean by the shoulder pulling him back, “This was a bad idea,” he muttered.

“No.” Castiel stated, louder this time.

“Dean,” Chuck turned him around forcefully, staring him straight in the eyes. “You have to leave, now.”

“No.” Cas stated again, louder.

Dean turned his head to see Cas, noticing the distress he was in, I just want to help. How can I help?

Chuck grabbed both of his shoulders blocking his view to Cas.

“Dean, you have to listen. Go back to the cabin okay? The one we were in before. I promise i'll explain everything when I get back.”

“No.” Cas was almost shouting now. His voice horse, his breathing calmed.

Dean couldnt contain his confusion and sadness any longer. “I don't unders-”

“Dean.” Chuck looked him in the eye, pleading. “Please.”

Dean nodded once, brushing past Chuck to get to the door. He glanced back, I'm sorry.

Then the screaming started.

It was the most awful thing Dean had ever heard in his entire life. Like a wounded animal that was in so much undeniable pain, it could do nothing but scream.

Dean clasped his hands over his ears, his eyes wide in fear and shock. Tears reaching his eyes and spilling onto his cheeks. He ran.

He ran out of the cabin that held those torturous screams only to find a crowd of people starting to gather outside.

“What the-” one of the men questioned.

Right. I'm supposed to be dead. 

Another man approached him cautiously, dirt covered his dark face as if he had been hunting, his hair greasy and ruffled like it hadn’t been washed in months. Then, as if something hit a nerve the man punched Dean in the stomach. Dean doubled over, his knees hitting the ground.

“What did you do to him?!” the man boomed. “Someone check on Cas, Now!” he called behind him.

The man grabbed a tuft of hair from the back of Dean's neck, pulling to get Dean to look upward. He grabbed a familiar looking knife from behind his back, gliding the blade across Dean's cheek. 

“Who sent you?” he asked raspingly.

Dean looked up into the mans eyes. He saw recognition there mixed with fear and pain. Dean tried to look at the handle on the knife, noticing the familiar markings. Ruby's knife. 

“Where did you get that?” Dean questioned, focusing his stare on the knife.

The man pulled on Dean's hair harder, cutting lightly along his cheek. Dean hissed out in pain, he had no energy for snarky remarks let alone answering his dumb question. It had been a very long day. When the man saw that the knife had done nothing more than give Dean a mortal wound he loosened his grip.

“What the hell are you?” he mumbled in confusion.

“Jackson!” a woman belted.

Dean shifted his vision to where the voice was coming from, the woman from before, from the cabin.

“Release him.” she demanded as she strutted closer.

“He's a demon!” he hissed, dragging the knife over Dean's cheek once more. “I know he is!”

“He's not what you think.”

“Then, what, is he?!” he boomed.

The woman came to a halt in front of them both. “He's not from around here,” she answered calmly.  
Jackson released him immediately. His hands shaking. The woman took his hands in hers, looking at him intently, trying to calm him down with touch. 

“I know you were close,” she started, talking as calmly as she could, moving her hands over the handle of the knife. 

“But this is far bigger than you understand.” 

Jackson glanced at Dean, hurt clear in his expression. “He can't be here,” he whispered.

The woman took her finger, placed it under Jacksons chin, nudging his face to meet hers.

“Trust me,” she whispered.

Jackson let go of his grip on the knife, the woman took it, tucking behind her in her pants, then pulled Jackson into a hug.

Dean managed to pull himself away with the slightest amount of attention, taking shelter in the woods behind the cabins. He stumbled until he could walk no further, slumping against a trunk of a tree.He felt utterly hopeless, questioning why Zachariah sent him here in the first place. He drifted off to sleep with tears staining his cheeks.

A sudden movement startled Dean awake. Weight pressing against twigs on the ground, rustling of leaves. A figure was lurking behind some trees, watching him but not moving to come closer. 

Dean stood up, his body tense, ready for some sort of attack.

“Who's there?” he asked the open air.

Silence.

“I know you're there! Show yourself!” he demanded, trying to keep his voice steady.

The last person Dean was expecting it to be showed himself. Cas.

Dean let his guard down, relief washing over him at the apparent false alarm of danger. 

“Oh, it's just you.” Dean breathed quietly,

“Just me.” Cas answered, his voice quiet. “Is that a relief?” he asked.

Dean smiled, sitting himself back under the tree. “Sure, join me?”

Cas didn't move from where he stood. “I don't know if I can,” he whispered, not meeting Dean's eyes, not even looking in his direction.

“That's okay,” Dean muttered, leaning his head back against the tree, gazing at the stars above. 

Dean drew his brows together I question. “Did you want something?” he asked, keeping his voice as calm as possible, human!Cas was very difficulty to read, Dean didn’t want to startle him.

“You've been out here for some time,” Cas started, gazing up at the stars just as Dean was, “Chuck explained some things to me.” Dean took this time to take in the version of Cas standing before him. He was different. Not wearing that awful trench coat for starters. His hair was longer, his eyes looked as if they had aged a considerable amount, his skin matching. His clothes worn, torn, old. Dean could swear the shirt was even his, boots too. Somehow, even his voice was different, not as tight or gruff as the Castiel he knew. It was like a completely different person was standing before him.

“I was worried you were a demon.”

“What?” Dean snapped out of his trance, “A demon? Why?”

Cas began picking at the lose bark of the tree he was leaning on. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

Dean jolted his gaze up to Cas' face. Cas met his stare, a sad smile on his face as he shrugged. 

“I guess they thought it funny to torture me, you were the only way they knew how.” Cas moved cautiously, moving closer, just a little but closer never the less.

“Me?” Dean asked. Cas looked at him again but quickly looked away focusing his stare at the sky instead. Dusk was upon them, the stars shining brightly, soft animal calls filled the silence.

“Cas? How did I die?” Dean found himself asking.

Cas shifted on his feet, his eyes darting between Dean and the tree he was leaning on. He breathed. 

“Why would you want to know that?” he asked, a sort of pleading in his eyes, trying to tell Dean he didn't want to talk about that if he didn't have to. It was a valid question of course. It wouldn't help at all, but Dean couldn't scratch the feeling that maybe it would help figure out why Zachariah had sent him here. So he repeated his thoughts aloud.

“It could help to find out why I was sent here.”

Cas' eyes widened slightly, a shimmer of fear creeping into the former angels frame.

“Zachariah?” Cas asked, fear mixed with hope, sounding like the Cas he knew. Dean smiled, his chest tightening at the familiarisation, an unfamiliar emotion creeping its way to the surface. 

“The Angels?” Cas continued. “They're alive? They're here?” Hope over-clouding the fear, Cas took a small step forward.

“Wait,” Dean started, eyebrows drawing up on his face in confusion. “They're not here? You haven't spoken to them?”

Cas sighed, his body going limp, he began sliding down the trunk of the tree he was standing at, drawing his knees up to his chest once he hit the firm grass below. 

“No,” he answered, “they're not here.” He buried his face into his knees.

Should I get up? Dean thought, I don't wanna hurt the poor guy if I get too close.

“Cas?” Dean asked, his voice quiet and quint. 

Cas lifted his head, meeting Dean's eyes, his face began to screw up as if he were about to cry, his arms came round to wrap around his knees as if trying to pull them closer to himself, his eyes still holding Dean's stare. Dean felt as if Cas was staring into his soul. Cas smiled, his face still screwed up as if he were about to cry, but his face was taken over by a look of fondness. 

“I've missed you saying my name like that.” he whispered, barely loud enough for Dean to hear.

Then, as if he caught what he just said he shook his head, breathing deeply. 

“What year are you from?” Cas asked. His knees still drawn up to him but his arms loosening.

Dean breathed, shocked to find he had been holding his breath.

“Answer my question first.” 

Cas shook his head, no. “I don't-” his face screwed up again, his brows tightening, his voice breaking. Dean stayed silent, waiting for Cas to collect himself. Calm himself down.  
It took a few moments but Cas looked at him again, his face showing clear signs of heartbreak.

“I don't know-” he started, cutting himself again, taking a deep breath, looking away from Dean's face. “I don't know if I can talk about it.” He met Dean's gaze once more, “At least, not with you.” 

Dean's stomach knotted. What the hell does that mean? Wait, that woman. What had she said about Cas and I about being practically married?

It clicked. Like a vase smashing on the ground. Shit.

“What year are you from, Dean?”, Cas' voice calm, as if he somehow knew the thoughts swimming around in Dean's head.

Dean couldn't breathe. In, out. In, out. Dean felt sick. He met Cas' eyes.

“2009,” he rasped out, barely. In, out.

Cas nodded, “I'm surprised it took you this long to figure out,” Cas said, smiling sadly, “It always did take you a while.”

In, out.

“I don't-”, he started

“I know. It's okay, you don't have to say anything.” In, out. “You told me, the other you, I know you know what i'm talking about. He said he wouldn't have admitted to it, but he knew it was there.” In, out. Cas smiled. “He told me he knew from the moment I stepped into that barn.”

“Stop.” Dean rasped, barely above a whisper. Cas didn't hear, too busy reliving the memory.

“He knew his life had changed forever.”

“Stop, please.” In, out. Dean was crying. Cas looked at him then, really looked. He moved his legs so he was sat on them instead of them being pressed against his front, Dean wiped the tears falling down his cheeks, Why is this happening? I'm supposed to be getting home, not having a chick-flick moment. Cas began moving slowly, inching toward Dean, as if he were some wounded animal that would skitter away. They kept their eyes locked to one another as Cas got closer. He didn't stop until his knees were touching Dean's, sitting in front of him. He gave Dean a sad but fond smile, reaching his hand up to Dean's face. Brushing the tears away. “Sorry,” Cas whispered, “I haven't spoken about you in a while, got a little carried away.” 

“That's what that women meant wasn’t it? When she said we were married?”

Cas met his eyes, letting his hand fall to Deans knees. He smiled. “Something like that.”  
Cas breathed deeply, gliding his other hand into his jacket, pulling out a prescription bottle. Unscrewing the lid he popped one into his mouth, like he'd done this a thousand times before.

“So you're on pills too?” Dean asked mockingly, a cocky smile reaching his lips.

Cas smiled again, “It helps,” he shrugged.

Dean pulled his knees closer to him, resting his face on his knees causing Cas to sit back a little, crossing his legs beneath him.

“You're different.” Dean stated. 

Cas looked at him intently, “Good different, or bad?”

“Just,” Dean sighed, “I don't know. You smile as if you're happy but you still look sad.”

Cas shook his gaze, focusing on the grass next to him, picking at it then letting it fall through his fingers.

“I lost someone I care very much for, of course I'm sad.”

The funny feeling returned to Deans gut. “Me?” he asked, feeling bold.

“Who else?” Cas answered, as if it was the most simple thing in the world.

Dean brushed his hand over his face, breathing deep.

Why am I sat here with Cas? I need to figure out why I'm here. I should leave.

 

“Don't.” Cas murmured, “I know what you're thinking, please don't leave.” All traces of happiness vanished from Cas' expression, only sadness and sorrow remained.

“I only have a day left, I can't sit around doing nothing. I need to figure it out bef-”

“They want you to see what will happen.”

“What?”

Cas sighed. “At first I thought they wanted to stop us. But i'm not sure they really care about that. I mean, why would they?” Cas chuckled, but it did nothing to lighten the mood. “i think they want you to see what will happen if you continue to say 'No'.”

“To Michael?”

“And to Lucifer.”

“Why the hell would they want that?”

Cas smiled, pity covering the sadness. “Why wouldn't they?”

“So this?” Dean spoke, his mind racing, trying to make sense of what's just been said. He gestured to his surroundings. “This happened because I said no?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.”

“Yes.” Despite what he'd just realised, they smiled. Cas began staring again, he shuffled closer, resting his chin on his hands, his eyes skimming Dean's face.

Dean blushed, turning his had away. “What're you doing?”

“Memorising.” Cas stated, a small sad smile lifted his cheeks as his eyes continued scanning.

“Why?”

“Because you'll be leaving tomorrow.”

Dean glanced at Cas' lips, just for a brief second, as if he was trying to come to a decision in his head.

“We were together right?” Dean asked, a lump forming in the back of his throat, his stomach doing somersaults.

Cas' face relaxed. He stopped scanning Dean's face to look into his eyes.

“Yes.” he whispered.

“Married?”

“Practically.” Cas smiled, the memory filling his brain. “There was a ceremony.”

“A ceremony?”

“Well,” Cas chuckled, “There weren't exactly any priests around to do it properly.”

“Right.”

“You remind me of him.” Cas stated, his eyebrows drawing together, scanning Dean's face once again.

“Yeah?”

Cas nodded, his breath slowing, his pupils dilating, his eyes lingering at Dean's lips.  
Dean gulped. “You know I'm not him though, don't you?” he whispered.

“I know you're from different time lines,” Cas stated “but it doesn’t mean I feel any differently.”

Dean tried to shuffle away slightly, his back hitting the trunk of the tree. This isn’t him. This isn't my Cas. He's high. He's lonely. He doesn’t want me, he wants his Dean. 

Cas placed a single finger on Dean's lips, “You're over thinking,” he whispered. His face so close to Dean's the hunter could feel his warm breath on his face.

It took all of Dean's inner strength to put his hands on Cas' shoulders, nudging him away, giving them breathing room.

“You don't want me.” Dean spoke, “You don't want this, you're just high.”

Cas shook his head. “The pills, the drugs.” he gulped, “They help clear my head.”

Dean shook his head this time, using more force to push Cas away. “I don't believe you.”

Cas placed his hands on top of Dean's, using very little force to remove them, placing them on Cas' waist.

“I know you.” Cas stated, staring intently at him. “I know how you used to think, act.”

Dean could do nothing but stare, his inner strength dwindling, only he didn't want to use it to push Cas away. He wanted to bring him closer. 

“I remember how scared you were when we first kissed.” Cas whispered, his face close to Dean's once more. “I remember you told me how much you wanted me but you were too scared to take it.” 

Cas was now merely an inch away from Dean's lips, but he didn't move any closer, wanting Dean to make the last move.

“I remember you telling me you didn't deserve me.” Dean's eyes were now totally transfixed on Cas' lips, his breathing quickening, the feeling in his gut now becoming unbearable. 

“You got it wrong, Dean.” Dean's eyes met blue. “It is I who doesn’t deserve you.”

Dean lurched forward.

Cas took a while to realise this was actually happening, he finally had Dean again. His strong hands held the hunters face, Dean's hand coming up to the back of Cas' neck to tug on the stray hairs. Cas let out a low growl, pushing Dean gently against the bark of the tree. Moving his mouth to the lobe of Dean's ear, biting it. Dean was done for. Pressing harder against the softness of Cas' lips.

Dean was expecting the kiss to stay rushed and hard, but after Cas took control he slowed it down. The pressure of his lips turning soft, yet continued to stay passionate. Dean tilted his head just slightly, opening his mouth, just a little. Moving his body closer, oping his legs to manoeuvre them either side of Cas' waist.  
Cas slowed the kiss down, the sloppy make out now small soft pecks of lips. Opening his eyes, Dean had no idea why he hadn't done that with his Cas. They exchanged smiles, soft, heart-warming smiles, and just sat there in each others embrace. Their foreheads touching, their bodies entwined, sitting amongst the trees and under the stars. 

Dean had never felt so relieved in his entire life.

 

Of course the moment couldn't last forever no matter how much either of them wanted it to.

Chuck came running through the trees a few hours before dawn, ranting on about some search party that had returned, Dean had no idea what the hell he was going on about but followed him anyways, Cas trailing behind, their hands entwined.

 

“So that's it it? That's the Colt.” the women from this morning asked one of the guys that had obviously been on the search party. Dean recognised them but couldn't place their names.

“Dean this is Risa,” he gestured to the women, now he could finally stop calling her that in his head.  
“Benn, Stuart.” He gestured to the other two, Benn hovering over the Colt, his greasy brown hair tied up in a low pony tail. And Stuart sat on a chair opposite, his feet kicked up on the table. “You already know who this is.” Chuck said to the others. 

Stuart gave a small hand gesture, probably supposed to resemble a friendly wave whilst Benn just nodded. 

Risa huffed, “Yeah, we know who he is, we also know he's caused a lot of shit to happen today.”

“But he can help.” Cas piped up, still standing behind Dean, hands still enclosed together.

Dean piped up at this too, “If anything can kill Lucifer, that's it.”

“Great.” Risa replied snarly, “Have we got anything that can find Lucifer?”

“Wait? Kill? That's Sammy you're talkin' about,” Dean grunted.

“Dean,” Stuart sighed, “I'm sorry, but these orders come from you.”

“What?” Dean mumbled, eyebrows raised.

“Dean wanted Lucifer dead, no matter the cost.” Benn finished. “And it doesn’t matter anyway, “he turned his attention back to Risa. “We don't have to find Lucifer. We know where his is, or at least where he will be. The demon we caught last week he was on of the big guy;s entourage. He knew.”

“So a demon tells you were Lucifer is and you're just gonna believe it?” Dean asked.

“Oh trust me, he wasn't lyin'.” Benn answered smugly.

“And you know this how?” Dean inquired, if he only had a day left to see what the Angels wanted him to, seeing his brother dressed up as Luci would be a page turner.

“Our fearless co-leader, is all too well-schooled in the art of getting the truth.” Stuart stated, twiddling his thumbs in his lap as if the situation was boring him.

“Torture?”

Benn looked up as if he was surprised there was any other way of getting information from anyone.

“Great.” Dean sighed, Cas held his grip a little tighter in reassurance.

Benn shook his head, obviously not caring what Dean had to say or think about any of this. He pulled out a map from his back pocket, placing it on the table, unfolding it, then pointing at a red marking he'd made earlier.

“Lucifer is here, now” he reported. “I know the block and I know the building.”

“Oh good,” Risa remarked, “It's right in the middle of a hot zone.”

“Crawling with Crotes, yeah.” He looked at her and smirked. “You saying my plan is reckless?”

“Are you saying we walk in, past all the demons and the Crotes and then shoot the devil?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. If you don't like 'reckless' I could maybe use 'insouciant'', maybe.”

Stuart chuckled, “Already fighting like an old married couple and you've only been together a month. Well, the honey-moon stage didn’t last very long, now did it?”

“Are you coming?” he asked them both.

“Obviously.” they both chimed.

“We'll get the grunts moving.” Risa stated, trudging out the door.

“What about you two love-birds? Ya comin?” Benn asked them.

Dean and Cas exchanged looks, “You don't have to, but I'm doin' this.”

A look of sadness flashed over Cas' face before he composed himself. “I'm not going to see you again after this am I?” Cas asked, a sad smile present on his lonely lips. Dean kissed them without even thinking about it. 

“I don't think so.” he replied, matching Cas' smile.

“Then I'm coming.”

 

Cas and Dean took a truck with Stuart, he seemed like the only one out of all the others that wasn't bothered by Dean so much. Maybe they weren't that close when he was alive. Maybe he just didn't care. It seemed like they were all going to their deaths anyway.

Dean and Cas sat in the back, just a few more hours of privacy before Dean saw his baby brother wearing Lucifer to the prom. Cas sensed Dean's distress and so, he held him. Dean's head resting in Cas' lap. He'd offered him some pills too but naturally, Dean declined. He didn't want any false emotions whilst he did this.

“What're you gonna do when you get back?” Cas asked, playing with strands of Deans hair, close to petting him.

Dean looked up, “You mean with the Angles? With Sam?” Dean gulped then took Cas' other hand in his. “With you?”

Cas smiled, “All of the above?”

Dean sighed, “Honestly? I have no friggen' clue.”

Cas continued to pet him. What the hell am I gonna do? I can't just go back and suddenly say yes? I can't just spring everything on Cas. He's different back then, he doesn't even understand human emotion.

“I do have some advice.” Cas said with that sad smile again. Dean raised his eyebrows, telling Cas to carry on. “Don't spring it on him too quickly.”

Dean sat up at that, but he kept close to Cas, their shoulders touching. “Who? Sam?”

“No,” Cas trembled. “Me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dean,” Cas turned in his seat, no seatbelt on to stop him from doing so. He took Dean's hands in his and looked at him intently, his expression filled with all kinds of emotions. “I was different back then. Don't get me wrong, there is no doubt in my mind that I loved you back then. But I was an Angel. I had all those feelings and I just-”

“You didn't know what to do with them.”

Cas nodded, “I wasn't even entirely sure what they were, let alone what to do with them.”

“Are you saying I should back off? After all that happened today, after we kissed? You just want me to leave that all alone?” Dean stammered. 

Cas clasped his hands tighter, shaking his head, “No, no of course not, not at all.” Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Just, ease into it.” He smiled sadly, “No matter how much of a badass I used to be, understanding my own and others emotions was still confusing to me.”

“Did you love me? Back then I mean?” It was a question Dean had been meaning to ask since their moment in the woods earlier. 

“Love is a strong word I have come to cherish and use carefully. Maybe not love, but I was certainly on my way to falling for you, in every way imaginable.”

“I don't know if I'm strong enough to teach you things, not when I don't even have a friggen' clue what I'm doing myself.”

“I know, but I believe in you. And so does he. You need each other. Even with losing you, as hard as that was, I'm glad we still had the moments we did.” Cas placed a gentle kiss on Dean's lips. “I'm going to miss you.” he whispered. Dean help his hand tightly. Me too, he thought.

 

The trucks were too big and too noisy to drive right into the hot zone so the few hunters they had left stopped just a few clicks out. Climbing out of the trucks, packing up ammo, they kept walking forward. Only there were no Crotes. In a hot zone, none in sight. But they kept walking. They had a mission to complete.

 

“That building there! Take cover behind those vehicles!” Benn ordered. 

They all sat, reloading weapons, taking sips of water, eating Granola bars.

“We go in through those doors.” he pointed to the entrance, “We don't turn back. We kill anything that moves. Is that clear?” he boomed. All of them nodded. 

“We leave in 3 minutes.”

Dean and Cas sat next to one another, sharing a bottle of rain water, neither of them saying anything. Neither of them knowing what to say. Cas was the one to break the silence. “Don't forget me.” he whispered. Dean stared at him, how could Cas even think such a thing? He lay his gun on the floor, brining Cas closer to him, holding him in his arms. This could be the last time he's get to hold him for a long time. Dean leaned his head back, bring his hand to Cas' face, lifting his chin up, kissing him on the lips. “How could I ever forget you?” he retorted. Cas smiled, taking in a deep breath, bringing their lips together once more. They leant their heads against each other, eyes closed, just savouring the few moments they had left.

He heard footsteps behind him, then everything went black.

 

Dean woke on the hard cold floor. Wiping the dirt from his eyes, looking around to see where the others were, gone. What the hell. Figuring the building was probably his best bet, he ran.

A single yelp of pain caught Dean's attention, making him turn a corner. That sounded like Cas.

Turning yet another corner, a loud crash of thunder boomed above him, causing Dean to jump. Coming to an open clearing he saw his worse nightmare in front of him. 

Lucifer was standing over Cas' body, his right foot on Cas' neck. Cas was lifeless. Dead.

As if sensing his presence Lucifer turned revealing yet another nightmare, Sammy's face.

Dean frooze. Cas is dead. Cas is dead. Sammy and Lucifer. Sammy and Lucifer.

“Oh,” Lucifer remarked, not startled as such, just surprised to see him. “Hello, Dean.”

Cas is fine. He's back in '09. He's standing on that corner like an idiot, waiting for him to call. Cas is fine.

A sudden bolt of thunder and lightening shock Dean from his trance. Cas is fine. Sammy is fine.

“Well,” Lucifer spoke, interrupting Dean's thoughts. “Aren't you a surprise”

Another bolt of lighting. Dean squinted his eyes to protect them from the brightness.

“You've come a long way to see this, haven't you?” Dean was finding it hard to believe that he wasn't still asleep on that dingy floor. Lucifer has Sam dressed in a white suit, his frame strong and tough. In a strange way, he looked nothing like Sammy at all. Everything about his appearance screamed 'Lucifer'. 

“I'm sorry, it must be painful, speaking to me in this form.” He walked closer to Dean. “But it had to be your brother, it had to be.” he leaned forward to put a hand on Dean's shoulder, but Dean moved away. An angry scowl on his face. Lucifer sighed, tilting his head, in a way it made him look a little innocent. “You don't have to be afraid of my, Dean. What do you think I'm going to do?” 

He walked over to Cas' limp body, sighing at his fallen brother. “Such a shame.” he mumbled, “But then that was my brother, always choosing his heart,” he stared at Dean at that word, “Instead of his brain.”

Lucifer shifted his stance, holding sammy's body upright. “Ever hear the story about how I fell from grace?” he asked. Cas is fine. Sammy is fine. Dean groaned. 

“Good god, you're not gonna' tell me a bedtime story are ya'?” Dean straightened himself out. They're fine. This is just an alternative universe. “My stomach’s almost out of bile.”

Lucifer smirked, “Do you know, why God cast me down?”

Dean didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. This dickbag was going to continue his story anyways.

“Because I loved him.” he confessed, “More than anything.” More flashes and rumbled from the storm over head. “And then, God created you. The little,” he paused, “hairless apes.”

“And then he asked all of us to bow down before you, to love you more than him.” A questioning look went across his face. “And I said, 'Father, I can't' I said, 'These human beings, are flawed, murderous. And for that, God had Michael cast me into hell. Now tell me, does the punishment fit the crime?”

Dean's body began to tremble. The sorrow he felt, the guilt, the anger, all filling up inside him, giving him the courage to speak his thoughts aloud.

“You're not foolin' me, you know that?” Dean spoke aloud. His eyes glossing over at the sight of his brother being used in this way. “With this sympathy-for-the devil crap. I know what you are.”

Lucifer was taken back. Surprisement in the words Dean just spoke. “What am I?”

“You're the same thing, only bigger. The same brand of cockroach I've been squashin' my whole life.” he spat, anger filling within him. “An ugly, evil, belly-to-the-ground, supernatural piece of crap. The only difference between them, and you? Is the size of your ego.”

Dean trembled, How did I let this happen?How did we let it get this far?

“I like you, Dean” he stated. “I get what the other angels see in you. Especially my little brother. Goodbye. We'll meet again soon.”

Lucifer turned, his back facing Dean , walking away.

'You better kill me now!” Dean yelled after him. 

Lucifer looked amused by this outburst. “Pardon?”

“You better kill me now. Or I swear, I will find a way to kill you. And I won't stop.”

Lucifer stepped forward, a smile playing on Sam's lips. “I know you won't.” His smile grew wider. “I know you won't say yes to Michael either,” he smirked “and I know, you won't kill Sam. Whatever you do, you will always end up,” he glanced around his surroundings, gesturing toward them, “here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up, here.”

Dean felt too much sorrow within him, he couldn’t help himself, he let a tear fall down his cheek. 

Lucifer continued. “I win. So I win.”

Dean shook his head, gritting his teeth, holding his head high. “You're wrong.”

“See you in five years, Dean.” A bolt of lightening and he was gone.

Dean rushed over to Cas' body. Kneeling beside him, his hands shaking, his fingers trembling as he reached out to hold him. Another bolt of lightening had Dean turn around, Zachariah. He touched Dean's forehead then... nothing. Just white.

 

They were back in that stingy hotel room, three days had felt like a month. Dean was now standing, leaning his body back against the cabinets. Dean still had stale tears staining his cheeks, the image of Cas dead on the floor still dead in his mind. But he was back, Cas was safe, Sammy was sfae. As safe as they could be anyways.

“You saw it right?” Zachariah asked, “You saw what happens?” Dean wiped his face with hands. “You're the only one who can prove Lucifer wrong.” he added. “Just say yes.'

“How do I know this isn’t one of your tricks, huh?” Dean asked, anger still fresh. “Some sort of angel- hocus-pocus?”

“The time for tricks is over, Dean.” Zachariah stated. “Give yourself to Michael. Say yes and we can strike,” he started to walk closer, “before Lucifer gets to Sam. Before Lucifer gets to Castiel. That I have to say.” Zachariah chucked, “was quite a surprise.” 

“Don't” Dean warned, walking slowly over to the opposite side of the room. He stayed silent for a few moments, before smirking. “Nah.” he simply stated, turning to face Zachariah.

“'Nah'?” he repeated, taken back at this response. “Haven't you learnt your lesson?”

“Oh,” Dean chuckled, “I've learnt my lesson alright. Just not the one you wanted to teach.”

Zachariah's anger rose, his voice now a bellow, “Well I guess i'll have to teach it again, Ive got you now bo-”

A flash of white and Dean was suddenly at a roadside. He turned. Castiel. All the feeling sand emotions returned to Dean at once. He moved closer, only to stop himself. This Cas didn’t know. But they way Castiel was looking at him, like he had all the faith in the world in this one Man. Dean stepped forward, embracing the Angel in a 'bro-hug'. Patting his back, Castiel stood stiff.

“Hug me back you moron,” Dean huffed. “It's been a long day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and comments so I know whether people are interested in me updating. Than you for reading.
> 
> IG - smileycas

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure when this will be updated again or even how long i want this fic to be. I haven't got a clear story line led out in my head just yet. They'll probably be updates on my ig.
> 
> IG: @smileycas  
> Tumblr: @cas-tiel-trash


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